


Fifteen

by Venstar



Series: Meaningless Scars [15]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: I don't know, Light Angst, i mean maybe they do, no one dies okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 00:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15303066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venstar/pseuds/Venstar
Summary: “Stop saying that!” Bond growled out, he had a choice, to retreat back towards the bedroom, where there would be an escape, if Q knew him at all...or to stay and take a stand where he stood. “Are you here to kill me?  Is this how it ends?”





	Fifteen

It was the gun, that was automatically drawn on him, that finally caused Q to pause...freeze, more like it, where he stood. At least, he tried to, but he sneezed. The gun was lowered and the man holding it spoke.

“Bloody hell, Q!” Bond said. He squatted down carefully, to turn on the lamp resting on his living room floor and glared with one good eye at his wristwatch, while slowly rising out of his crouch. “It’s 0200! I think...why are you in my flat?”

“I’m sorry.” Q gave his hands a little wring and twist, before he dropped them twitching to his side. His breathing was coming in and out a little too fast, he swallowed, trying to hold his breath, calm his nerves and stop his shaking. It wasn’t working very well.

“Late night tryst gone wrong, hmm?” Bond asked, a small smile picking up the corner of his mouth. He leaned against the doorway that led back to what must be the bedroom. It wasn’t a kind smile, there was a bit of cruelness about the eyes, where the smile didn’t reach.

Q twisted his hands into the folds of his anorak. He cleared his throat. Well, that was a big mistake.

“Q?” Bond’s voice came out different this time, slightly demanding and on edge. He glanced around, made uneasy by Q’s odd behavior. His hand tightened on his gun, gone lax at the supposed sight of a friendly face. He brought his weapon back up, ready to take out any enemy, known or unknown.

“I’m sorry.” Q should have known better than to exhibit suspicious behavior in front of an assassin. Q wondered how long he had to live. His thoughts wandered to time and space and all of it’s various configurations.

“Stop saying that!” Bond growled out, he had a choice, to retreat back towards the bedroom, where there would be an escape, if Q knew him at all...or to stay and take a stand where he stood. “Are you here to kill me? Is this how it ends?”

Q blinked in surprise behind his glasses. “What? No, no I’m not here to kill you, what would give you that idea?”

Bond raised one very, self-aware brow, waiting for Q to put two and two together.

“Yes, well that was that and this is this.” Q held his hands out to his sides, still empty with nothing in them to provoke, but that didn’t mean an agent of Bonds caliber wouldn’t fire on him if he thought it was his life or Q’s. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Bond lowered his weapon, just a little and padded forward on bare feet. Flannel pajama bottoms slung low on his waist, draping over his feet as he inched forward, well aware that his curiosity could have him killed, but his Quartermaster was standing in the middle of his living room acting very oddly, to say the least. 

“Could I have a towel?” Q asked, his voice innocently pleading.

“You want a towel?” Bond’s weapon lowered even further. Bond’s eyes trailed along Q, down to the floor, where he noticed slightly darker patches along the path Q would have trod. “I didn’t hear any rain.”

Q glanced down at his feet and shook a hand. Dark, fat, wet, shiny droplets splattered onto the hardwood floor, turning dull as they absorbed the dust. “I’m afraid I’m bleeding all onto your lovely, ill-kept floors. You should really have the maid service in when you’re gone. You have quite a bit of dust laying about. I know it’s a bit of a stretch of trust for a double-oh, but Moneypenny could always supervise. I mean, I would as well if you needed me to…”

Bond leapt forward, just as Q’s knees went out from under him and he landed on the floor in an ungainly mess. Elbows, knees and feet all pointed in funny directions. Bond wouldn’t begrudge him the bruised knuckles he’d have after preventing Q’s skull from cracking on the ground.


End file.
